We open on fuzzy edged scenes of
Laura and Steele kissing in the cellar of the monastery in "Vintage
Steele", then cut to Laura asking Steele, "Who are
you? Where did you come from?" from "Tempered Steele",
then back to The Kiss. Laura is looking at Steele's passports.
"Michael O'Leary, Ireland. Paul Fabrini, Italy. John
Morrell, France. Richard Blaine, Australia. Douglas Quintane,
England." Back to The Kiss. "Who are you?"
we hear Laura asking again.

Laura opens Steele's closet from the last scene in "Steele
of Approval", and finds them empty. "Who are you?"
She checks the dresser. "Who are you? Who are you? Who
are you?" echoes over and over as she sits disconsolately
on the bed.

A buzzer goes off, and Laura sits up in her bed. It takes her
a moment to realize she was dreaming, and she sighs as she turns
off the alarm. Outside the office, she pauses, looking sad as
she looks at the name on the glass doors. Looking inside, she
takes a deep breath and enters with a bright smile on her face
to greet a downcast Mildred.

"Morning, morning, morning," she says cheerily.

Mildred sighs, sitting in a chair drinking coffee. She looks
like she's lost her best friend. "Oh, that's JUST the way
he used to greet me."

Laura's smile fades as she kneels before the distraught woman.
"Mildred, get a grip on yourself. I told you that- he's
away on a case."

"WHAT case? Why didn't he tell me? It's not like him to
take off like that. I mean, without a word, a note- a collect
call."

"It's all very hush-hush," Laura insists, rising to
her feet again. "I don't even know all the details myself."
She paces away, then turns. "How's the progress on those
names Mr. Steele asked you to checkout?"

Mildred gets up. "Oh, those guys really get around, let
me tell you. The only way I could keep track of them was with
this visual aid." She pulls out a world map with lines on
it. "Now, Richard Blaine went from Los Angeles to Australia,
then dropped out of sight. BUT Paul Fabrini left Australia for
Italy, where he disappeared. However, John Morrell left Italy
for France, where he got lost somewhere. Only to have Michael
O'Leary leave Paris for Dublin."

"What about Douglas Quintane?" Laura asks.

"Nothing so far. It's like a tag team relay. One guy arrives,
another guy leaves. What do you think they're up to, Miss Holt?"

Laura grimaces. "I'm afraid only Mr. Steele knows the answer
to that one."

The computer begins to print something out, and Mildred goes
to look at the screen. "Bingo! The last name on Mr. Steele's
list just turned up! Douglas Quintane in London!" She tears
off the printout and hands it to Laura. "Now, how do we
get this information to Mr. Steele?" she asks.

Laura looks at the printout. "I think Mr. Steele's WAY ahead
of us on this one."

"What are we gonna do, Miss Holt?"

***

And American Airlines jet lands at Heathrow. A cab takes Laura
and Mildred into Soho, where their arrival is watched with concern
by a man wearing a dark suit and bowler hat.

The women enter a building and speak to the landlady, a middle
aged woman with several cats.

"The hotel he was staying at said he left this address when
he checked out," Mildred tells her.

The woman puts down the cat and turns to the window to lower
and raise the shade alerting the man downstairs. "I can
never get these to stay right. And I like them all to be even."
Laura and Mildred frown. "Makes a prettier picture from
outside, you see?" She picks up a cat and sits down.

"About- Mr. Quintane," Laura tries again.

"Yes. What do you want with im?"

"He's my cousin," Laura tells her. "My- Aunt Millie
wanted me to look him up when I got to London," she explains
with a smile.

"Ain't no Quintane 'ere," the woman tells them.

"Then why did he leave this as a forwarding address?"
Mildred wants to know.

"Well, maybe 'e was GONNA come- and something 'appened."

Laura frowns. "Thank you for your trouble."

The woman frowns once they leave.

***

Outside, the man watches them leave the building. "She's
lying," Mildred says. "And what was that tug of war
with the shades all about?"

He climbs a fence, and Laura starts to follow- but finds her
ankle held by a hand. She's pulled down, and comes face to face
with a dirty, unshaven Steele.

"What are you doing here?" they ask each other.

The man passes the alley way, and Steele sees him. "Sorry,
can't talk right now," he apologizes, starting over the
fence.

"Where are you going?" Laura demands to know as he
stands there, watching the outside of the alley.

"Lovely to see you again, Laura. Keep in touch." He
takes off.

Laura climbs up to watch him go. "You CREEP! Keep in touch?!
I came six thousand miles to SEE you!"

***

In the back of a double decker bus, the dark suited man tosses
Laura's purse onto a newspaper which reads, "Ripper Claims
2nd Victim".

It's picked up by an older man. The first one sits down and starts
reading the paper as his friend takes Laura's ID out. "Laura
Holt. She works for Remington Steele Investigations."

"She's already been to Soho, asking for Douglas Quintane."

"The circle's becoming dangerously wide. Use any measures
required, cut any corners necessary- but find Steele. And STOP
him."

The younger man nods.

***

Later that night, a horse drawn carriage comes down a foggy,
dark street to stop before a pub called the "Prospect of
Winter". Inside, a charwoman is having a pint, telling people
about her hard life.

"Swines, I tell ya. Down on me 'ands and knees, scrubbin'
and moppin'. And me w'a condition." She takes another drink,
tells a man sitting around the corner at the end of the bar,
"Arthritis, I got! Do I get any sympathy from them? Oh,
no, sir. All they ever do is make more dirt for me to clean up.
Swines, that's whot they are!" she declares.

Her audience turns around. It's Steele. He takes out the pocketwatch
(see "Steele Your Heart Away") and opens it, hearing
himself say, "Your father always wanted you to have this.
Signed Patrick O'Rourke."

Then he hears Laura say, "To S.J. from K.L. The initials
on the watch. One of these must be your father."

Steele empties his glass as he hears someone say, "Make
it a quick on, Billy." Steele turns to see a man across
the bar. When the man sees Steele, he takes off. Steele follows,
pushing his way through the crowd, jostling the charwoman.

"Ere! Wotch it! I got a CONDITION!"

Steele chases his quarry, but loses him in the dark, foggy streets.

***

The charwoman comes out, slightly tipsy, and sees the carriage.
"Well," she says to the masked, costumed driver, "ain't
we splendid! Off t'see the Royal Mum, are we? What some people
won't do for the Yankee dollar. All dressed up like Oliver Twist
so they'll toss you a quid or two!" She laughs, wobbles
off down the street.

The carriage follows.

When she realizes it's there, she starts running, then crosses
the street to hide in a doorway until it passes. Once it's gone,
she starts to laugh at her silliness. "Must be goin dotty
in me old age. Must be m'condition. Yeah. They'll drive a person
to the grave if y'let em, the swines."

She cuts across to the next street, only to find the carriage
there, waiting for her. The driver stands and climbs down from
his perch. The woman backs away toward the side of the street.

Steele, running, still trying to locate the other man, hears
the scream, then another sound up on an overhead walkway. He
ducks into a building.

The man he's chasing crosses the walkway, only to find his way
blocked by Steele. "Hold up, Chalkie. I've been sitting-
in that pub- waiting for YOU- for two nights, mate."

"I ran into Felicia. She's got a flat in Kensington. Well,
I thought you an' 'er might 'ave a bit of a grab in mind. You
know-"

"No, no."

"A paintin' 'ere, a bauble there. Like the old days."

"I don't what you're talking about! Not like the old days.
I didn't even know she was in London, Chalkie! No, no business.
This is personal. You understand? This is personal. And you owe
me a name."

"Yeah, I know. And I'm workin on it, 'arry. Honestly. I'm
working my fingers to the bone for you!"

Steele grabs him around the neck in a choke hold. "If I
broke your neck, ever, ever so slowly, I wonder if the name that
I wanted would catch in your throat? Hmm? Hmm?"

"Jenny!"

"Say again?"

"Jenny Buchanan!"

"Where can I find her?"

"Paddington Station."

***

The next morning, at Scotland Yard, a man picks up a paper from
a desk as there's a knock on the door. The headline reads, "Ripper-3
Scotland Yard-0" The man opens the door. "Come
in, Miss Holt," he says. It's the older man from the bus,
who gave the order to find Steele. "I'm Chief Inspector
Lombard."

"The officer on the phone said my purse had been recovered,"
Laura says, sitting down in front of the desk.

Lombard takes her purse from the desk and hands it to her. "The
money's gone, I'm afraid," he tells her. She pauses. "Everything
else seems to be intact." He goes to stand at the window.
"What were you doing in Soho, may I ask?"

"Looking for a friend."

"Did you find him?"

"Not yet."

"I see from your identification that you work for a private
investigation firm in America."

"Yes. Remington Steele Investigations."

"Is he here on a case?" Lombard asks.

Laura sits forward. "What makes you think Mr. Steele is
in London?"

"Oh, I just naturally assumed, what with you being here
and all-"

"I'm on vacation," Laura informs him.

"Ah. And this- friend you were hoping to find? Perhaps I
can help you to locate him."

"That's awfully kind of you, Inspector. But really, it's
not that important."

Lombard's expression is dangerous. "In that case, I suggest
you give places like Soho a wide berth. It would be a pity if
something were to happen to you- and I can almost guarantee it
will- unless you keep to the more traditional tourist attractions."

Laura rises and follows him to the door. "I'm curious about
something. Is it customary for a Chief Inspector of Scotland
Yard to involve himself in purse snatchings?"

Lombard doesn't answer. "If you should speak to Mr. Steele,
kindly tell him I'm most anxious to meet him." He opens
the door.

Laura leaves and Chalkie enters.

"'ere I am, sir. Johnny on the spot. I came as soon as I
found 'im."

"Where is he?"

"'e gave me the slip," Chalkie admits.

"Then what good are you?"

"I know where 'e'll be."

***

At Paddington Station, a blonde is trying to solicit business
as a train arrives. She's having no luck and her mood isn't improved
by Steele's hailing her.

"Jenny Buchanan?"

"Oh, bugger off!" she tells him.

"Jenny, wait." He grabs her arm. "Jenny, Jenny-
I just a few minutes with you, that's all."

"You've got nerve, thinking I'd be available for the likes
of you. I've got me standards-"

"Yes, and I'm sure they're incredibly high. Look, I just
wanna talk with you. I'll even pay for the privilege." He
takes out some money. "Here's ten."

Jenny takes the money. "If you ask me, you could put this
to better us getting y'self a nice bath, y'know? Spruce y'self
up a bit. A bit of eau de cologne?"

"Look," Steele begins, looking around the station as
he talks, "awhile ago, a man name Patrick O'Rourke sent
me this watch. It has to do with my past. Only before I could
find out exactly what, O'Rourke died."

"I don't know no Patrick O'Rourke," Jenny insists.

"Jenny, Jenny, just hear me out, will you? I traced him
back here to London. He used to work at a pub in Whitechapel
behind the bar as a barman. Also there was this fellow about
four or five years ago who used to hang around the pub where
he worked." Jenny's becoming nervous and edgy. "O'Rourke
used to look out for him, keep him away from the coppers, that
sort of thing. Because this fellow had a very nasty habit of
getting drunk- and beating up- and beating up- well, girls like
you."

"No, Jenny, please. Look, you know who I'm talkin about,
don't you? You know who I'm talkin about. Now, I know it's painful,
but it's very important to me. It took some doing, but I've dug
up a name- Kevin Landers. K.L." He opens the watch. "The
same initials here on this watch?"

"I swear, I never knew who he was. Kevin. That was all he
ever called himself!"

"Where can I find him, luv? Where can I find him?"

Jenny laughs. "You ain't been lookin very hard. He's all
over the place these days." She leads him over to a newsstand
and points to a paper. "There he is. There's your Kevin
Landers."

Steele picks up the paper to read the headline. "Earl
of Claridge Announces Nuptials." The picture is that
of a handsome, dark haired man.

"Him?" Steele asks. Jenny nods as Steele notices Lombard
and several Bobbies down the platform. He turns to go the other
way, but a bevy of Bobbies are there as well. "Thanks very
much, Jenny. Take care of yourself, okay? Thank you, sir,"
he tells the stand owner, tossing the paper back to him and starting
toward Lombard, his hands up, as if he's going to turn himself
in.

Suddenly he pulls a flower cart over, and takes off the other
way, detouring through the newsstand, then hopping onto a train
that's pulling out. He blows the pursuing Bobbies an air kiss.

Lombard and his man exchange a frustrated glance.

***
At the house in Soho, Mildred tries to slip the door to Douglas
Quintane's flat with her credit card, but only succeeds in destroying
the card. American Indian war whoops precede the appearance of
a young boy, wearing a headband and feather, carrying a tomahawk,
his face painted. Mildred joins his whooping, then asks, "Hey,
Geronimo. Wanna make some wampum?" He nods. "See, I
just rented this little teepee, only I lost my key. Now, do you
think you can open that door for-" she checks her purse,
"five buffalo head nickels?"

"Ugh," he responds.

"Oh, you're my kind of savage," Mildred sighs. He calmly
walks over to the door, and hits it with the outer edge of his
fist. It opens. Mildred hands him the money. "Oh, here you
go, Chief. Now, don't you spend that on firewater." He leaves,
whooping.

Mildred enters the room and searches the dresser. All she finds
is a matchbook from the "Prospect of Winter" pub.

She looks at the bed, and finds a suitcase hidden beneath it.
Inside, she finds the five passports, each one carrying the name
of one of the men she was tracking, but all with the same picture
on them. Steele's picture. She's stunned.

***

Felicia opens the door of her Kensington flat to find a man standing
there, holding a bouquet of flowers in front of his face. "Flowers
for the lady?" he asked. "Tuppence a bunch." Lowering
the flowers, Steele smiles uncertainly.

"Michael," Felicia purrs as he comes in to the apartment,
looking around and handing her flowers. "I thought you were
safely tucked away in Los Angeles, playing that paragon of virtue,
Remington Steele."

"Yes, well, I'm sorry to barge in on you like this, Felicia,
but, I just had nowhere else to turn."

Felicia sits on the coffee table, glass of wine in hand. "You
look like hell, darling."

"Thank you, darling," Steele returns. "I feel
like hell." He sits down. "I've been reduced to sleeping
in doorways like- uh, like when I first hit London. Also, uh,
all my old mates practically run the other way whenever they
see me. On top of which, Scotland Yard is after me."

"Well, it sounds like you've been a naughty boy."

"Well, yes, that's the frightening thing. I haven't DONE
anything. Oh, by the way, Chalkie seems to think that WE might
have something brewing."

Felicia smiles. "All WE have together are memories."

"Well, uh, will they buy me a place to stay for awhile?"

"I don't think that would be wise."

"Why not? I mean, you're not up anything, Felicia, that
might attract- undue attention, are you?"

Felicia gives him an innocent look. "Darling. I'm simply
here to see a few shows, buy a few gowns- break a few hearts.
Simply recreational."

Steele smiles, not believing her, and goes into the bedroom,
where he smiles again upon finding men's clothing on her bed.
He gives Felicia a look, then tosses them aside to flop down
on the bed. "Let's hope he's not the jealous type, that's
all I can say."

"Well, you know how it is," she says, sitting down
beside him.

"Uh huh," he mutters, pushing his cap down over his
face.

"I can't spend the rest of my life pining for you,"
she tells him, looking him over. "Besides, unrequited lust
can be so- tedious." He lifts the cap to peer at her. "And
very lonely."

He lowers the cap again and smiles. "I'm glad I found you
again."

"Your timing always was superb," she agrees.

Steele turns over, getting comfortable. Felicia moves toward
the door, her expression thoughtful as she looks back at him.
She closes the door and goes to the telephone, then dials a number.
Very softly, she says, "Operator, I'd like the number of
Scotland Yard, please."

***

Felicia opens the door to admit Lombard and his men. "Where
is he?" Lombard demands.

"The bedroom."

"Get him out here." He follows her to the bedroom doorway.

"Darling, are you awake? I've made some food for you. Everything
you like. Bacon and eggs, that special jam from Harrods-"
Lombard scowls. "Come and get it before it goes cold."
When there's no response, she glances at Lombard, who nods to
tell her to open the door.

They rush in to find the bed empty, the curtains billowing at
the open window.

Steele dashes through to the front of the building, where he's
stopped by the bowler hatted detective who was watching his flat
in Soho. "Nowhere to run, mate," he declares.

Steele hits him, tossing him aside and makes a leap to try and
climb over the spiked wrought iron fence around the small stoop.
The detective grabs his leg, pulling. Steele slams down on the
spikes, impaling himself on them. He kicks the detective in the
face, and gets over the fence, making his escape, in obvious
pain.

***

Mildred enters the hotel room. Laura turns from pacing at the
window. "Mildred! Where have you been? I've been stuck in
this room all afternoon waiting for you!"

"When you didn't show up from Scotland Yard, I got antsy,"
Mildred says, troubled.

"I picked up a new friend," Laura informs her, turning
back to the window. "I spent the morning trying to lose
him. He's still here. Have a look." She pulls back the curtain
to show Mildred the man leaning on an umbrella.

"Miss Holt," Mildred begins, trying to figure out how
to ask what she needs to ask.

"Yes?"

"This-uh- Quintane guy-and some of the other guys- have
their names ever come up before this case?"

Laura looks wary. "Not that I remember. Why?"

"Well, according to my background check- some of them are
pretty shady characters." She puts her purse down on the
table and turns back to look at Laura.

"Well, it's quite possible that Mr. Steele may've come across
them at some point in his career."

"I never asked you this before- I guess because I never
thought it was important-but- how much DO you know about the
Boss? I mean- before you two hooked up?"

Laura takes a deep breath. "Why the sudden interest in Mr.
Steele's past? Exactly where have you been?"

"Douglas Quintane's flat!" Mildred declares.

"And-?" Laura prompts.

"And-"

Laura touches her shoulder. "Mildred, what exactly did you
learn about Douglas Quintane?"

Mildred turns and starts to take the passports out of her purse,
then glances at Laura and puts them back in favor of the matchbook.
"You can probably find him in this joint."

***

Later, a nurse is getting off work. "G'night, Lesley! Ciao!"
She gets to the elevator as the doors are closing. "Going
down?" she asks.

A man's hand comes out and keeps the doors open for her to slip
in. She presses the button. "Am I glad that shift is over,"
she sighs to the man, who's wearing surgical greens and a mask.
She takes out her compact and powders her face. "You're
lucky, doctor. You get them when they're unconscious. Can't complain.
If it's not the food or a draft, it's what on the telly."

The "doctor" takes out a scalpel and looks at it then
at the woman.

She smiles at him. "Well, this is where I leave you."

***

Bleeding badly, Steele leans against a wall in an abandoned building,
wincing and grimacing in pain. He hears the music from the pocketwatch,
then Laura saying again, "To S.J. from K.L. The inscription on the watch. One
of these must be your father."

He hears himself responding. "Perhaps."

"Perhaps? You can't have forgotten your own father!"

"I have a feeling that I never knew who my father really
was. I've never even seen my birth certificate."

"Is that why you wouldn't tell me your name?" Laura
asks. Steele looks up and sees her there, standing there. "Because
you don't' know it?- Don't know it?-Don't know it?"
the words echo as the image of Laura morphs into that of a frightened
young boy.

Steele, obviously still thinking that Laura is standing there,
smiles widely and reaches up toward her with his blood soaked
handkerchief in hand. Suddenly the boy bolts, leaping the low
ledge behind Steele to disappear.

Steele, grimacing in pain, realizes that he was hallucinating.

***

The carriage, with the nurse sitting inside, passes Laura as
she finds and enters the pub. The driver continues on, finally
stopping and getting down. He lifts the dead nurse's body from
the carriage. A gold cigarette lighter falls to the ground unheeded
as he carries the body to the side of the road. As he turns,
Mildred comes from the foggy darkness and gasps.

The killer turns and glares, and then Mildred takes off, terrified.
He catches her, grabbing her hair and throwing her against a
doorway, knocking her purse to the ground. Mildred struggles,
but the killer slaps her and then starts trying to strangle her.

The detective who was following Laura calls out, "Hey! You!
Stop! Police!"

The killer takes off, and the detective goes to Mildred, picking
up the passports that have fallen from her purse.

***

The boy brings Chalkie back to the building. They peer over the
ledge, but Steele's not there. Chalkie climbs over, finding blood
on the wall, when Steele grabs him around the neck from behind.

"You set the coppers on me, Chalkie. Didn't you, mate?"

"'arry, please. That's a terrible thing to say. If I didn't
love ya like me own, I'd be cut to the quick."

Steele collapses, and Chalkie inspects his wounds as the sound
of a police siren fills the air. "D'you 'ear that? It ain't
safe on the streets for you, mate." Steele is in bad shape.
"But you just stay put, and I'll nip back w'some bandages
and a bit of hot food, eh?" Steele lays over on the floor,
holding his stomach. "Old Chalkie'll fix you up right proper,
'e will."

***

Laura hears the sirens as well, and runs from the pub, following
the sound. She pushes her way through the crowd to see Lombard
kneeling beside the nurse's body, then she sees Mildred standing
with the detective and goes toward them. Lombard sees Laura,
and follows her.

"Mildred! Are you all right?"

"Oh, Miss Holt," Mildred says in a hoarse voice that
sounds near to tears. "I'm sorry. But I couldn't let you
come down here alone."

Lombard tells his man, "Take her to the hospital, get her
attended to. No doubt you'll want to accompany her, Miss Holt-
Since your disregard for my warning resulted in this attack."
He turns and walks away.

Laura puts her arm around Mildred. "Come on, Mildred."

They move away, until Laura sees Lombard stoop down and pick
up the gold cigarette lighter. She leaves Mildred in the detective's
care and goes to Lombard. "A pity you won't be able to get
any fingerprints from that." Lombard looks at her. "Unless
you tell me what's going on, Inspector, I shall be forced to
inform your superiors about that bit of evidence you're obviously
trying to conceal."

***

In Lombard's office, Laura is reading from Their Noble Lordships.
"The family crest of the Earl of Claridge, tenth in line
to the throne of England." She closes the book to add, "And
possible mass murderer."

"There's no proof that the Earl is responsible for those
killings," Lombard points out.

She holds up the lighter. "Isn't there?"

"Those are gifts he bestows on a great many people. Anyone
of them could have dropped it."

Lombard moves toward her. "Come now, Miss Holt. I'm prepared
to be candid with you. Won't you extend me the same courtesy?"
She looks at him, then at the lighter, then hands it over to
him. "We both know who Douglas Quintane really is."

"Exactly what do you mean?" Laura asks.

"Soon after the first murder, this Quintane started making
inquiries about Kevin Landers. I did some checking, and soon
discovered- much to my horror- that Douglas Quintane was actually
Remington Steele. Why is your chief pursuing this case so relentlessly?"

"Believe me, Inspector, I'm coming at this thing from a
standing start. Help ME with why the connection between the Earl
and this- Kevin Landers is so disturbing."

"Kevin Landers was the name used by the Earl on his forays
into Whitechapel five years ago. He was given to drunken rampages
in which he gleefully beat up prostitutes. It was all dealt with
very discreetly, and the Earl was shipped off to Canada, where
his family has extensive holdings."

"Sort of a royal 'remittance man'," Laura says.

"Practically on the heels of his return to England, these
killings began. And the first victim was a Whitechapel tart."

"And the others?" Laura asks, curious.

Lombard goes to his desk and takes up a folder, handing Laura
some death scene photos as he gives her the names. "Emily
Brent, solicitor's secretary. Hilda Lake, charwoman. Vera Claithorne,
nurse at Great Ormand Street Hospital."

Laura looks at the pictures. "Then your killer isn't confining
himself to prostitutes."

"Another reason why Steele must be stopped. If he makes
this public, he could ruin a potentially innocent man. And reduce
me to station sergeant," he muses as the phone rings. "Lombard.--No.
Don't do anything until I get arrive." He hangs up. "It
seems that one of our chickens has come home to roost,"
he tells Laura.

***

Chalkie meets them at the car when the arrive. "Now I've
done my bit for Queen and Country, you will whisper a word in
the magistrate's ear, won't you, gov?" he asks.

Lombard doesn't answer, just follows Chalkie to where he left
Steele. He's not there. "But 'e was 'ere!" Chalky insists.
"'e's gotta be! 'e's 'urt too bad to run far!"

Laura is standing there when she feels something hit her shoulder.
She looks and sees something dark on the fabric. She reaches
up and looks at it, then looks upward.

Steele is perched on a pulley near the ceiling. Laura gasps softly,
and Steele shushes her. "Inspector!" Laura calls out.
"Over here!" She points to the corner. "I think
I saw something move right over there." Steele closes his
eyes in relief.

Laura waits for the police and Chalkie to go around the corner,
then goes to the rope and releases it to lower the pulley to
the floor.

Hearing the squeaking, Lombard asks, "What's that noise?"
and takes off for the main room.

Laura and Steele exit the building, disappearing into the dark
foggy London night.

***

A woman shows them into a dingy, dirty little bedsitter. "Ten
quid a night in advance. Loo's down the hall." She follows
them to the bed, where Laura helps Steele to sit. "No baths
after 10, no flushin' after 11."

Laura takes out some money. "Thank you and good night."
The woman looks at Steele, concerned. "Good night,"
Laura says with more firmness, "Thank you very much."
She leads the woman to the door. "Night." She closes
and locks the door.

Steele lays down, moaning softly.

She looks at him for a moment. "If you weren't such a pitiful
wreck, I'd clobber you." She goes to the table at the window,
filling the washbasin with water from the pitcher there as she
continues her tirade. "Walking out on me like that. Without
a note, a word- a collect call! Take off your shirt," she
orders, carrying the basin to the table beside the bed and wetting
a towel. "What kind of relationship did we have- or ever
HOPE to have-" he can't take the shirt off, so he starts
pulling it out, wincing, "if everytime I turned around,
BINGO! -You were gone?" She wets a rag. "Lift your
shirt." She presses the rag to his stomach.

Steele groans. "Laura, you're the one who said we needed
time apart," he reminds her in a weak voice. She rinses
the rag.

"So you decided to spend it a continent away?"

"I needed to find something."

"What?"

"Me."

Laura frowns, not understanding. "You were in Los Angeles
last time I looked."

"What's the major stumbling block between us?" he asks.

She thinks. "Your aversion to legwork?"

Steele manages a smile. "My name. My real name. I knew how
you'd feel if I wouldn't give you that. That I couldn't be honest
about- other things."

Laura rinses the rag again, and places it on his wounds. "I
don't care what your name is. Make one up. It'll be all right
with me."

"Perhaps. But when it seemed our time together had come
to an end- I realized that Remington Steele was just another
name I had borrowed. And if I was gonna give it back, I should
have to replace it with something that was truly mine."

"And did you?" Laura asks.

He holds up the watch. "I've come up with a name for one
of the initials in the watch. Kevin Landers." Laura looks
away, but Steele doesn't notice. "Only, that isn't the man's
real name." He smiles. "Are you ready for this? He's
the Earl of Claridge." Laura returns his smile, hiding her
concern. "Wouldn't it be a cork if it turned out I was related
to royalty? After spending half my life in dumps like this place.
I've always been afraid of looking too deeply into the past.
Afraid of-" he glances at Laura. "Never mind. Anyway-
I'll pay a visit to His Lordship tomorrow morning."

Laura pats his arm. "No," she tells him, taking the
watch. "You're in no condition to call on anyone. I'll go.
I'll do it for you." She kisses his cheek. "But first
we have to get you a doctor."

***

The next day, Laura and Mildred are in the back seat of a car.
Laura is listening to the watch as Mildred frets. "They
have his passports, you know. The police. Confiscated all five
of them. Five different countries, five different names- but
only ONE picture: HIS."

Laura closes the watch. "I know, Mildred."

"Miss Holt, I have a right to an explanation, you know."

"And I promise you you'll get one. But first we have to
help Mr. Steele."

"Or whoever the hell he is."

"Now, remember, I'm the reporter, and you're my photographer.
And you won't get any award winning pictures if you don't take
off your lens cap."

Mildred taps the lens of the camera in her lap. "Got ya."

***

At the Earl's, the Earl shows them into a salon where a young
woman is sitting, having her portrait painted. "Katherine,
dear," he says, giving her a very proper, very chaste kiss,
"This is the American writer I told you about."

Katherine smiles warmly. "Does that mean I can take a breather?
I haven't sat this straight since Miss Percy's School for Young
Ladies."

They all laugh at her joke. Laura tells Mildred, "Why don't
you get a few shots of Miss Galt while I have a chat with His
Lordship?" She taps the end of the lens, and Mildred removes
the cover as Laura and the Earl move away.

Laura and the Earl are walking through the grounds. "According
to my notes, you've been away from England about five years,"
Laura comments.

"Yes. Tending the family interests in Canada. That's where
I met Katherine. But I decided to have the wedding here. England's
really my home- and I must confess, it's been most rewarding."

"As you know, America has its own form of royalty- rocks
stars, sports figures. I was wondering if you suffered the same-
inconveniences?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well, because of your marriage, your picture is in all
of the papers, on television- it must be difficult for you to
go anywhere without being recognized."

He stops. "WHY do you suggest that I should have to go around
London without being recognized?"

"As beautiful as it is here, you must get the urge to-"
the Earl notices that his cigar has gone out, and starts looking
for something in his pockets, "stroll through Hyde Park-
visit a museum. Ride in a Hansom cab."

"Exactly what are you driving at? What sort of interview
is this?" he demands as a hand appears with a gold lighter
in it to light the cigar. He glances at the younger man.

"What's the matter? Lost your lighter again?" the man
asks.

"It's around somewhere," the Earl shrugs, still upset
over Laura's question. "Miss Holt- May I introduce Bradford
Galt, Katherine's brother."

"Pleasure," Bradford says to Laura as they shake hands.

"Miss Holt is one of those American magazine writers,"
the Earl informs Bradford coldly. "No doubt with a deadline.
Would you be kind enough to entertain her before she's FORCED
to leave?" he stalks off, angry.

Bradford smiles at Laura. "I suppose I'll have to get used
to this."

"What?" she asks as they start walking.

"Reporters."

"You have something against publicity?"

"I led a very quiet life in Canada, Miss Holt. And I find
it very disconcerting to have one trying to snap one's picture
all the time."

"Your accent sounds more English than Canadian."

"Both Katherine and I were born in London. However, Canada
seemed to offer more opportunity."

Laura notices a Hansom cab sitting in the courtyard. "This
seems strangely out of place."

"The Earl's ancestors all rode to their wedding in one of
these. He plans to carry on the tradition. His Lordship's a stickler
for tradition. He even has Katherine and me sequestered in a
Mayfair flat. No- hanky panky before the vows are exchanged."

Inside, there's a crash and Mildred cries out. Laura and Bradford
take off in that direction.

Entering the salon, they find the maid and Katherine helping
Mildred to her feet as the Earl stands by, watching, a frown
on his face. "What happened?" Laura asks.

"She became dizzy," Katherine informs her.

Mildred gestures to the tea service that's all over the floor.
"Oh, I am so sorry."

Katherine looks at Laura. "Perhaps you should take her upstairs
for her to lie down for awhile."

Katherine looks at the maid. "Clara, make up some rooms.
Do stay until Miss Krebs is ready to travel." The Earl scowls.

"You're so kind," Laura tells Katherine, then goes
to Mildred. "Lean on me."

As they pass the Earl, Mildred says, "I am so sorry."

"Excuse me," Laura says.

The Earl watches them go, eyes narrowed.

***

After dark, Laura is at the bedroom window as Mildred paces.
"What's going on?" Mildred asks. "Why do we have
to make sure we spend the night? Oh, Miss Holt, come on. Tell
me. I can keep a secret."

"You may have to keep more than one if things turn out the
way I think they will," Laura tells her cryptically as her
attention is caught by something in the courtyard below. The
Earl comes out and climbs onto the carriage and leaves. "Hold
the fort, Mildred."

Laura goes to the garage and finally gets into a jeep. She's
grabbed from behind by Steele. "Why aren't you where I left
you?" she asks.

He climbs into the front seat beside her, wincing and holding
his stomach. "Why aren't you? I've been waiting for you
to come back for some work on who I am."

"I didn't get around to that," Laura informs him. "What
are you doing?"

"This is MY past we're chasing," he tells her.

"Alright, sit tight." She starts the engine.

"Have you ever driven one of these things before?"
Steele asks.

"I saw Smokey and the Bandit," she tells him
and they set off.

They follow the carriage till it stops before a house. The Earl
climbs down and goes inside.

Steele watches, then says, "Now that we've seen London by
night, would you mind telling me why we're following someone
who could very possibly be a very, very close relative of mine?
And why, incidentally, he's bouncing around on top of that carriage?"

Laura hesitates. "You've been a little- busy, trying to-
track down your past- and you probably haven't paid much attention
to- the news. The happenings of the day-"

"I can always tell when you're about to impart something
very unpleasant," he tells her. "Your left eyebrow
starts twitching."

Laura lifts a hand to her eyebrow. "Does not." She
looks at the carriage as the front door of the house closes,
and the black garbed driver climbs into the seat and sets out.
She starts the engine.

"Laura, Laura, what the hell are we doing?" Steele
asks.

"Chasing a murderer," Laura tells him.

"The Earl of Claridge is a murderer?"

"I didn't want to tell you this way-"

"What were you gonna do? Send me a postcard?"

She takes off after the carriage.

In Whitechapel, Laura turns a corner and finds the way blocked
by the apparently abandoned carriage. She's forced to brake hard,
and is thrown from the doorless vehicle to the road.

She's holding her knee when Steele gets to her. "Hey. You
all right?"

"My knee," she tells him.

He half drags her to the car. "Okay, okay. Let's get up.
Sit down here. Stay here." He takes off into the fog.

Laura watches him go, not seeing the shadow of the killer until
he's right in front of her. He puts his hands around her neck
and starts trying to strangle her. She struggles, finds the car
horn and blows it.

Steele hears it, stops. "Laura!" he calls and takes
off to return to her.

The killer knocks Laura unconscious and dumps her into the carriage,
then climbs onto the perch and using the whip on the horses.

Suddenly Steele is there, grabbing the horses' harness. "Whoa!"
he says. "Whoa!" The killer flicks the whip at Steele,
who finally manages to grab it and pull him down from the carriage.

Thinking him stunned, Steele stumbles to the carriage. "Laura?
Laura?"

The killer flies at him again, and they struggle. Steele gets
the upper hand and removes the killer's mask as Laura regains
consciousness. "Bradford Galt!" she exclaims, surprised.

"Who the hell is he?" Steele asks.

***

"One of the most cold blooded killer I've ever encountered,"
Lombard says the next day in his office. "We're still trying
to sort out the grisly details, but- from what we've been able
to piece together so far, Bradford Galt worked as an odd job
man in a boarding house for women several years ago. Rumor had
it that the old lady who kept the place had a considerable sum
of money hidden somewhere in the house." Laura and Mildred
listen as he continues. "So, being an ambitious young man,
hungry for a proper start, Galt began searching for the treasure.
Unfortunately for her, she surprised him and he killed her. And
then fled to Canada. However, he did leave a bloody fingerprint
on the hammer that he used to bludgeon the poor woman."

Laura looks at him. "Uh, he just needed a few moments to-
make himself presentable," she assures him.

Lombard picks up the passports. "I'm afraid I can't look
the other way on these. I do hope he has a passport in his real
name."

Laura and Mildred exchange a look.

***

Steele- wearing a suit, clean shaven, hair cut and combed, walks
down the street. As he passes a car, he's accosted by two men,
one of whom has a gun. "You're late," one of them declares.

"I am?" Steele asks, confused. They shove him toward
the car. "Didn't know you'd take it this hard." They
push him into the back seat and he sits back, then does a double
take as he sees Felicia's smiling face.